


Songbirds

by blueb1rd



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-29
Updated: 2011-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-25 01:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueb1rd/pseuds/blueb1rd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Santana & Brittany drabbles/ficlets taking place during seventh-ninth grade</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When Life Gives You Lemons

  
Santana was twelve years old and in that awkward stage between prepubescent and young adult. Her body was  _weird_  - taller now, but still stubbornly clinging to babyfat in awkward places. Hair was growing in bizarre places that it hadn’t grown before, and although she was  _finally_  allowed to shave her legs her parents still refused to grant her permission to wear make up to cover the acne that marked her face. Oh, and to top it all off? She was bleeding from her vagina once a month.

It sucked. Puberty  _sucked_.

She stood in front of the mirror in her bathroom, surveying her reflection with distaste and poking and prodding at her least favorite features. None of which, of course, helped diminish their effect.  _Sigh_.

"Saaaan!" Brittany's cheery voice rang out through the house as she took the stairs, probably two at a time. Brittany was always in a rush to greet life. "Come on - the lemonade's ready and it's _peak selling time_  out there!"

"Where did you even learn to talk like that?" Santana couldn't help the way her lips curled up in an amused little smile. Britts had that effect on her. That’s why they were best friends.

“I heard it on tv,” Brittany shrugged and hoisted herself onto the counter, swinging her legs. “What are you doing, anyway?”

“Taking stock.” Her shoulders slumped in defeat as her eyes flicked back to her own reflection. “I’m  _fat_.”

“What?”

“I’m fat.” She repeated in sulky accents. “Fat and ugly.”

“Santana - you’re being silly. You’re like, the prettiest girl I know! You’re not  _fat_.”

“You’re only saying that to make me feel better,” Santana grumbled, ducking her head with a frustrated sigh. “I have eyes, Britts. I know what I am.”

“Well, I have eyes, too, and they’re _good_  ones.” Brittany hopped off the counter and came to stand behind her friend, leaning down to rest her chin on Santana’s shoulder. “And when I look at you, I see good things.” She shrugged.

“Like what?”

“Like your eyes. They’re big and brown and beautiful. And your sense of humor.”

Santana cracked a smile again. “You can’t  _see_  a sense of humor, Britts.”

“Yeah you can,” Brittany persisted with a firm little nod. She pointed at Santana’s smile in the mirror. “See? There’s yours. It’s a nice one, too.”

“You’re so weird,” Santana shook her head, but kept her grin in place, leaning back into her friend a little. Brittany just hummed in agreement.

"Hey, you know the thing about lemonade?" the blonde asked, after a few moments of silence with Santana soaking up some of Brittany's confidence and cheer.

"What?"

"It has to chill," she concluded, nodding wisely. "Even though all the ingredients are there, it has to sit in the fridge for a while. And it's not going to taste right unless you leave it in there to get cold. You just have to give it time."

"So you're saying I'm like lemonade?" Santana turned to face the other girl, lifting her eyebrows. "I just have to give myself time, and my appearance will work itself out?"

"Huh?" Brittany tilted her head to one side, reminiscent of a bewildered puppy. "Oh, no. I was just talking about lemonade. You're already beautiful, San. I don't know why you think differently. Now come on..." she reached out to give Santana's hand a tug, attempting to pull her out of the bathroom and down the stairs. "Peak selling time, remember? I saw those Jenkins kids down the street setting up a stand, and we _really_  don’t want to let them beat us to the sales. They’re _mean_."


	2. Secret Ingredient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything Brittany tries to grow blossoms and blooms to an insane degree. Santana doesn’t get it.

Everything Brittany tries to grow blossoms and blooms to an insane degree. Santana doesn't get it.

She doesn't get it because if she told Britts she had a green thumb, the blonde would take it literally.

She doesn't get it because Brittany waters her plants with kool-aid. "They like the taste," she'd explained simply. "You don't want to drink water all the time, do you? Sometimes they want something different."

She doesn't get it because Brittany decorates her plants like Christmas trees, weaving sparkly bits of paper through the foilage because they "like to look pretty."

She doesn't get it because this is Brittany. Brittany who still believes in Santa Claus and got lost in the sewer and thinks dolphins are gay sharks (she might have a point there, actually).

But when the blonde plucks a ripe red strawberry from the patch in her back yard and holds it up to Santana's lips, everything clicks into place. Love. That's what it is. Brittany takes all the things she loves and, in her own unconventional way, she does what it takes to make them flourish.


	3. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brittany and Santana share their first kiss at not-quite fourteen years old.

The Christmas lights strung around Brittany’s bedroom twinkled over head like man-made stars in a facsimile of the night sky. She and Santana stared up at them, laying side by side on the fluffy twin bed, a little cramped but cozy nonetheless. This was their place, their little shelter from the world, where they exchanged dreams and swore sacred pinky promises to keep each other’s secrets, like all best friends should.

“Hey Britts?”

The quietly phrased question caused Brittany to roll on her side, propping herself up on her elbow and giving Santana her full attention. “Yeah?”

“You ever kissed anybody?”

“Sure.” Brittany shrugged, nonchalant. “Mom and Dad and Grandma and Lord Tubbington and--”

“No, no,” the brunette interrupted. “I don’t mean family. ...Or pets.” Seriously, only Brittany would do something like kiss a cat. “I mean, like...  _you know_. Boyfriend-girlfriend type kissing.”

“Oh. No. Why?” she wanted to know, lifting her brows in a curious expression. “Have  _you_?”

Santana flushed and shook her head. “No,” she answered simply. After a pause, she glanced back over and added, “Do you want to?”

“Someday. Do you?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Santana shifted uncomfortably in her spot on the bed.

“You guess? What’s the matter?”

“What if I’m not good at it?” The brunette caught her bottom lip between her teeth, a worried crease in her forehead. “What if I totally  _suck_  and whoever kisses me ends up _laughing_  at how terrible I am?”

“San...” Brittany began with a sigh, shaking her head. Santana did this a lot - over thought things, worried she wasn’t good enough. Brittany wished Santana could see herself the way Brittany did, and the way she was convinced everyone else saw her, too. She would feel so much better then. “You’re doing it again. Stop putting yourself down. You’re amazing - you know that.”

“I’m not an amazing kisser,” Santana pointed out, shifting into a sitting position and crossing her arms over her chest. “I can’t be. I’ve never  _done it_  before. And _nobody_ wants to kiss a girl who doesn’t know what they’re doing. They’re going to lean in and plant one on me and I’m just going to sit there like a... a  _plank of wood_ , because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. And they’re going to tell everyone, and people I don’t even know will come up to me at school and be like ‘oh, you’re that girl who can’t kiss, right?’ And then I’m going to have to punch them in the face, because we don’t put up with that kind of crap in Lima Heights Adja--”

She hadn't even noticed that Brittany had sat up, as well. Not until a swish of blonde hair and a whiff of fruity shampoo washed in her direction as the other girl leaned in and stopped her tirade with a quick press of lips on lips. The shock and confusion made her tense, but after a moment or two she relaxed, hesitantly moving her lips against Brittany's. 

It was... surprisingly pleasant. Kissing always looked so stupid on tv and in movies. Everyone was always in a race to suck each other's faces off, or whatever and what's appealing about that, you know? But this was... nice. Soft, and warm, and gentle. It made her lips tingle and her stomach flutter in this way that felt  _strange_ , but decidedly pleasant.

"There," Brittany stated softly, smiling with satisfaction when she pulled back. (Santana wasn't sure if it was because she'd felt it, too - the tingles, the flutters - or if she just felt good about making Santana feel better. Brittany was a little hard to figure out sometimes.) "You didn't seem so bad at it to me. It's like I told you - you've got nothing to worry about."

Santana simply nodded, not quite trusting her voice, and leaned back against the pillows again. She stared up a the lights on the ceiling, her mind a jumble as the events of the past few minutes repeated in an endless loop through her mind. After a few minutes, she reached for Brittany's hand, tangling their fingers together and squeezing lightly. "Thanks." One corner of her mouth lifted in an uncharacteristically shy smile. "You're my best friend, Britts."

"I know." Brittany squeezed back, shifting a little closer. "You're mine, too. Forever?"

Santana nodded. "Forever."

 _Fin._


End file.
